


Hungers to Sate

by ornategrip



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: M/M, Masturbation, Phone Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-11
Updated: 2013-04-11
Packaged: 2018-03-01 03:54:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2758622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ornategrip/pseuds/ornategrip
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Will can't sleep and finds himself calling Lecter despite himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hungers to Sate

**Author's Note:**

> Deals briefly with an oncoming panic attack and Will likes a little pain with his pleasure.
> 
> Old kink meme fill for [this](http://hannibalkink.dreamwidth.org/1375.html?thread=40031#cmt40031) prompt.

The moment Hannibal picked up the phone, Will realized he had no reason to call. Certainly not at - he glanced at the cheap motel clock, glowing red in the dim light - and winced. Certainly not at three in the morning.

“I’m sorry.” he blurted out before Hannibal had even finished his smoothly quiet greeting. “It’s late, I’m sorry.”

There was a moment of silence where Will listened to Hannibal breathing and imagined the man was doing the same to him.

“Never too late for you, my good Will.”

He should have protested Hannibal’s use of ‘my good Will”, too much like an endearment and such a sign of a personal connection between the two of them when Will had worked all his life to avoid any interpersonal relationships. But Hannibal had first used that phrase in his presence weeks ago and Will had allowed the opportunity to complain pass long ago.

Still, Will suppressed a shudder. ‘My good Will’ in Hannibal’s careful rolling tones always made him feel strange and out of sorts in a way he couldn’t quite explain.

“It _is_ too late,” he said sharply, to cover the tremor deep in his bones. “I shouldn’t have called.”

“You are having trouble sleeping, are you getting too close?”

Hannibal ignored Will as if he hadn’t even spoken and Will rubbed at his face, feeling the rasp of his stubble and the roughness of his chapped lips. He paced the room, anxiety and stress threading around his nerves, little tendrils that wrapped tightly around him and made it hard to breathe. He was exhausted, weary to the bone and still he couldn’t sleep, could only circle around his tiny motel room and see visions of waking nightmares that would not leave him be.

“I can’t sleep, I keep getting flashes, images, feelings. I’m in his head and I can’t get out. I see what he does, I see why he does it and- and-”

“You were frightened.”

Will made a sound then, a wounded animal sound and Hannibal hushed him gently.

“It is a natural reaction, a human reaction, Will and one you should not be ashamed of.”

Will took in a deep shuddering breath, blinked his eyes harder as if to disprove the wetness there, the weakness there no matter what Hannibal might say. Still, Hannibal’s voice, so certain and impartial, was enough to begin to calm Will’s breathing from the near hyperventilating rhythm it had been working up to.

“I want you to breathe for me, Will. Deep breaths, yes that’s it. Just breathe.”

Hannibal kept up a steady monologue as Will slowly brought his breathing under control and with it his pounding heart. He wasn’t completely calm, not by a long shot but now at least, he wasn’t on the verge of a panic attack.

“Better?”

“Yeah, yes. Better.”

“But not good,” Hannibal mused. “If I know you, and I flatter myself that I do, you have not been eating or been eating things out of vending machines which is like eating poison when what you need is medication. If I were with you or you here with me, I would suggest a comforting meal made with my own two hands. Alas, I cannot feed you, not when we are so far apart. I will have to sate another of your hungers tonight.”

Then his voice sharpened, became a command that Will found himself following without thinking. And that was so nice, not having to think, to trust Hannibal to take care of him even across all these miles.

“Lie down upon the bed. Close your eyes.”

He stretched out on the covers, the back of his head against the pillow, one hand cradling the phone against his ear. The cheap linen was rough against his bare legs and bare arms, the pillow smelling slightly antiseptic.

“You must sleep, Will. You must step back.”

“I don’t think I can sleep.” he admitted, easier somehow with his eyes shut. The was a restlessness deep in his bones, still jittering and he knew he would not sleep until it found an outlet.

Hannibal hummed deep in the back of his throat and with Will’s eyes shut, the sound was all Will had left of the world. ‘My good Will’ he thought and that was it, the memory of those words washing over him like a tidal wave. It hit with just as much violence, slamming into him and igniting that incessant buzzing that had been living under Will’s skin since the first crime scene. It focused it, all that anxiety and adrenaline arrowing and turning into the lust he had been fighting against for almost as long as he’d known Hannibal. It wrenched a gasp out of him, a broken, ruptured sound.

“Ah.” Hannibal breathed in response.

That syllable was all it took for Will’s cock to jerk to life, twitching in his boxers. He squeezed his eyes shut tighter, trying to ignore it, gritting his teeth to keep any more sound from escaping. Maybe he could play it off as fear or perhaps it would be more accurate to say that Hannibal might _allow_ him to play it off as fear. He had no doubt Hannibal had heard the sound for what it was.

“Touch yourself, Will.”

It was a shock to hear that, to feel it against his ear and Will struggled to keep his world from tilting.

“But-” the protest caught in his throat, torn between mortification, exhaustion and a very deep desire for this to continue. He might have been able to keep his world steady but his mind was spinning, a thousand ideas shooting through his brain, a thousand images in bright, relentless color.

“Nothing to be ashamed of, my good Will. Did I not say I’d feed your hunger? I wish to help you sleep. An orgasm releases endorphins, which will aid in mental and physical relaxation.”

It should have been clinical, dry, those words straight out of a text book. But anything said in Hannibal’s warm, sophisticated voice took on new meaning. Almost on autopilot, Will licked the palm of his free hand before reaching down and pulling his half-hard cock free from his boxer briefs. He stroked himself, grunting at the familiar pleasure, hips jerking against the blankets. He felt delirious with fatigue and lust, both clouding his mind and making it very easy for him to latch onto Hannibal’s dominating personality for an anchor in the storm.

“Ah, good. You are touching yourself now, Will; I can tell. The noises one makes during pleasure are very unique, are they not? You are using one hand, yes?”

Will nodded then blinked the gathering sweat from his eyes.

“Yes,” he said hoarsely. “I’ve got to hold the phone with my other hand.”

“Mmm. Put me on speaker phone then. You deserve two hands.”

Will pulled the phone away from his ear, fumbling with the buttons until Hannibal’s voice filled the room.

“Will?”

“Yes, yes. I’m here.” 

He shut his eyes again so that Hannibal’s voice was all he focused on, not the bland, dingy walls or the cheap blankets beneath him. Just Hannibal’s voice in his ear and his own hand on his cock.

“Stroke yourself with one hand, cradle your scrotum with the other.”

Will moaned at the words and did as told, one hand fisting his cock, the other moving down to cup his balls, feeling their heavy heat in the palm of his hand. He rolled them from side to side, biting the inside of his mouth in a vain attempt to stop the whimpers.

“Do you have any lubrication?”

“Just spit.”

Hannibal tutted.

“That is no good but I would not have you get back up to fetch anything. We will simply have to get you to the stage of arousal that includes pre-ejaculate. Do you produce much, Will? Do you get _wet_?”

Will groaned, lifted his hand to spit on it again, panting as he slicked his cock, fingers twisting around the head, his other hand tugging at his balls. The spit wasn’t doing much but as Hannibal said, he just had to get more aroused and with Hannibal’s voice in his ear that was going to be easy.

“Do you, Will?” 

Will swallowed, working his cock with a steady rhythm and tried to remember Hannibal’s question.

“Yes!” he gasped. “I get wet, my cock, it- it-” 

He broke off with a whine, tilted his head back against the pillow as his pleasure ratcheted up. The first bead of precome swelled at the tip and his fingers quickly snatched it up, smearing it around the head then going back for more. He slicked his cock that way and it smoothed out his strokes, made it feel so much better.

“There’s some now.” he managed to choke out and Hannibal hummed his appreciation.

“Good, good. We do not want you to hurt yourself, after all. This is about pleasure, not pain.”

Will was silent.

“Unless... do you like it rough, Will?”

Will couldn’t help but flinch, the hand on his cock slowing, the hand on his balls falling to the side. He opened his mouth to lie but it fell apart almost immediately.

“I- no. No, but maybe a little, just a little.”

“Ah-ah, Will. Do not be ashamed, not here, not with me. You like a little pain? That is good, that is fine. Tell me, how do you give yourself pain?”

“Sometimes I- ah!-, I scratch myself, my thighs.”

“Can you do that now?”

He squeezed his hand tight and held it in place as his hips jerked up. Fucking his own fist and with his other hand, he scoured red lines along his inner thigh.

“Oh, oh,” he moaned, his head thrashing on the pillow almost enough to dislodge the phone. But he was still conscious of it, of that deep sinuous voice that urged him harder, faster. Rougher. 

He was moving at a frantic pace, no words now, just moans and whimpers and Hannibal’s voice purring darkly in his ear. He pinched the head of his cock, dragged his hand down the shaft and used his other hand to dig his nails into the flesh of his inner thigh.

He was close, he was so damn close...

“Come for me, Will.”

He let out a violent cry, body arching off the bed as his cock spurted wildly in his fist. His come splattered blood-hot across his belly, dribbled down his cock and soaked his fingers. When he finally collapsed back on to the bed, he was still shaking, chest heaving for every bit of oxygen he could manage. He moaned again, twisted his face into the pillow beside the phone.

“Very good, Will.” Hannibal’s voice murmured, soft and intimate next to his ear. Will sighed, nuzzled his pillow as if it was Hanibal’s shoulder and sighed again. Sleep was tugging at him, his eyelids heavy and getting heavier. He mumbled something at Hannibal, unsure of what he was even trying to say and Hannibal chuckled.

“Normally, I would advise you to wash up but you need your sleep. Wipe yourself clean with the bed sheet. We can forgive such crudeness this once.”

With clumsy hands, Will managed to catch the edge of the blanket beneath him, bringing it up to wipe at his belly, mopping up his come. It was a haphazard attempt at best but he got most of it off then kicked the blanket down before crawling between the sheets.

“I’m clean,” he slurred, sinking down into the pillows and tugging the sheet around his shoulders. Exhaustion was pulling him under, his whole body filled with lethargy and bone-deep satisfaction. He would sleep well, of that he had no doubt. He thought of thanking Hannibal but the thought was gone before it could solidify, melting into the ether of his drifting consciousness.

The last thing Will heard before falling asleep was Hannibal’s low murmur.

“Good night, my good Will. Good night.”


End file.
